


Taking the Plunge

by Nomader



Series: Partners [4]
Category: Laramie (TV)
Genre: Conflict of principles, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21749455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomader/pseuds/Nomader
Summary: Working together means living together. Slim and Jess begin to test the depth and strength of the relationship between them.
Relationships: Jess Harper/Slim Sherman
Series: Partners [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1255892
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

This is part of an m/m series of stories (Partners), as indicated in the Archive Warnings. As in life, long-term relationships often develop quite slowly and sometimes unperceived by some of the participants. The stories are strictly about fictional characters and not intended to reflect on the original actors.

* * *

“ _When someone makes a decision, he is really diving into a strong current that will carry him to places he had never dreamed of when he first made the decision_.”

Paulo Coelho

_\- Was this a devil of a mistake? –_

Slim Sherman stood in the dim light of the dawn as it penetrated the big bedroom and seriously questioned his decision of the day before. – _What had he let himself in for, taking on a new hand about whom he knew absolutely nothing except that the man was a drifter and a crack-shot? –_

Most cowboys were accustomed to get up with the first light at the very latest. Daylight was too precious to be wasted in a bedroll. _\- Had he managed to pick the one cowboy on the trail who was a slug-abed? –_

He stood peering at the sleeping form obscured under the heaped quilt and blankets. All that was visible was the lean blade of the shoulder, faintly marked by the thin shadows of an old lashing, and a bare brown arm, also showing traces of both bullet wounds and knife slashes. The said arm was draped almost possessively across the pillow, with a fervent clasp as if the sleeper thought it was about to be wrenched out of his grip. Nothing else was visible, not even the tumble of dark hair: all was submerged beneath covers and pillow. His new ranch-hand looked highly unlikely to leap out of bed, no more than Andy’s still shrouded form in the bottom bunk. Jonesy’s exodus from the bed nearest the door had obviously not sent a wake-up call!

Slim debated briefly the wisdom of grabbing that bare shoulder and giving it a good shake. Then he thought the better of it. – _It was only the first morning. Heaven alone knew when was the last time this young man had slept in a bed. –_

Instead the rancher went quietly out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

*******

_\- Oh hell! This was a damn’ mistake! –_

Jess Harper groaned silently and buried his head beneath the pillow. At least, he hoped his groan was silent, otherwise it might give rise to suspicions about his activities under the blankets swathing his slim form.

 _\- Huh? Slim? That was the trouble! Or rather who was the trouble. -_ Jess had known this right from the very minute they’d met, but now, on the first morning, at first light, he was ruing not having paid attention to his own warnings!

He’d woken wondering where he was and which bunkhouse he had bedded down in. Long-ingrained caution made him keep his head down and his ears open until he was sure of his surroundings.

A softly murmured “Morning, Slim” reached his ears and the events of the previous day flashed into his mind with all the suddenness of summer lightning.

\- _Slim Sherman! He’d accepted Slim’s offer of a job on the ranch. He’d eaten supper in the warm, family atmosphere of the little ranch house. He’d relaxed for the first time in God knew how long! And then he’d let himself be persuaded – lured, it felt more like – into sleeping in the same room as the rest of the inhabitants, instead of in the bunkhouse as he’d fully intended. He was welcomed and taken in like a proper member of the family and it was impossible to resist. So he was torn between delight and the inescapable realization that he should have stuck to his guns and slept outside. It had been bad enough getting into bed, into the top bunk, with his eyes firmly fixed on the wall all the time. Even Andy’s drowsy murmur from the bottom bunk, “Sleep well, Jess, I’m glad you’re here …”, could not save him from the knowledge of the tall, muscular blond body, not 10 feet away across the room. –_

Now his ears detected the unmistakable sound of bare feet on the floor and when this was followed by the sound of a drawer opening, it didn’t take much imagination to visualize what else was bare and – _Hell, yeah! Not 10 feet away! –_

Another silent groan shuddered through Jess, along with a surge of desire which had him clenching the pillow in an intense effort to remain motionless. There was a soft sibilance of a shirt sliding over skin, the dry rasp of denim being pulled up and the clink of a belt. There was the sound of bedding rustling under the weight of a body while socks and boots were pulled on. Then the warm waft of air as someone stood up and their footsteps approached the bunk-beds.

Jess could _feel_ the other man looking at him.

A kind of terror seized him, lest his true reactions be observed, and yet with it battled a contradictory and decidedly reckless longing that they would be recognized and welcomed.

There were a few seconds of silence. More footsteps. The sound of the door opening and closing.

Slowly Jess relaxed his death-grip on the pillow. He wriggled cautiously in the blankets, mentally willing himself to visualize angry rattlers or dead babies or wildfire or the prison camp - anything to restore his sense of proportion. When he was sure he could trust his body, he slid swiftly and silently out of the bunk and got dressed with a rapidity which would have astounded any watcher.

\- _Mind you, no drawers sure speeds things up a bit_. - Jonesy had confiscated every item of clothing last night, with the clear intention of purgative and vigorous washing. Jess had only managed to grab just a shirt and pants to preserve his modesty against the new day.

\- _A new day. A new start. –_

He sucked in a deep breath, drew on all his willpower, and opened the bedroom door.

*******

After this, it was relatively easy. Jonesy had provided a copious breakfast of simple, wholesome and filling fare. Jess was delighted to do justice to it. Slim was reassured that the man opposite him appeared to be alert and even eager to get the day’s work underway, at least if his concentration on the meal was anything to go by.

\- _Obviously the new hand was one of the lucky few who awake instantly from deepest sleep. –_ Or at any rate, this seemed a reasonable assumption to Slim. Aside from this fact, however, he was not assuming anything – not until he’d actually seen the Texan put in a good day’s labor. They had worked well as a team when challenged by outlaws: he hoped the same would be true when challenged by recalcitrant steers, broken fencing, impatient stage passengers and horses which routinely lost shoes on the rough terrain.

Slim was tempted to enumerate these and other tasks for the benefit of his new employee, but conversation did not flourish between them at the breakfast table. This was at least partly because Jess mostly had his mouth full. He was keeping it that way so as to avoid any embarrassing, compromising or in any way revelatory utterances. Slim just wondered, as he had at supper, how long it was since Jess had had his last square meal. Jonesy tempered pleasure at the appreciation of his cooking with a distinct uneasiness about how long their supplies were going to hold out.

Andy, who had also finally been persuaded to join the day, had no such inhibitions. “Gee, Jess – ain’t never seen anyone down Jonesy’s cooking so quick!”

This earned him a smack on the head from the offended cook and a frown from his elder brother at his casual diction.

Jess stopped with a chunk of bread half way to his mouth. He looked across the table at Andy. Then he advised shrewdly, “Andy, if y’ ever take off from here, y’ ain’t gonna know where y’ next meal’s comin’ from. So show Jonesy proper respect when he feeds y’ good and regular!”

Jonesy swelled almost visibly with pride at this accolade and Slim suppressed an approving grin at the way Jess had taught Andy a simple lesson about life on the trail. – _But the trail was what the pair of them should be hitting real soon! –_

With this intention in mind, it was not long before Slim pushed back his chair and rose from the table. Jess immediately did the same and followed him over to the door where they retrieved their hats, jackets and guns. For the first time, as they did so, Slim really registered the slick design and crafting of Jess’s gun. This was no serviceable handgun for a working rancher, but a precision weapon, honed and balanced to the minutest idiosyncrasies of its owner. Slim wondered again whether his own decision-making was at fault, but then gave a mental shaking to himself, remembering how the two of them had fought together the day before. If they could support each other then, they could do it now – and in the days to come. He opened the door and led the way out into the yard.

An hour or so later, Slim was reassured that his new hand was a hard worker. They had cleared the barn chores together very efficiently and brought in, fed and groomed the horses for the stage team. Jess was skillful in his handling of the horses and they in turn responded to him willingly. Soon all was set up for the first stage of the day and Slim went back to the house to check if Andy had completed his own chores and was ready to handle the team change.

Jess meanwhile took the opportunity to drift into the kitchen and pour himself another cup of coffee.

Jonesy raised a sardonic eyebrow. “You figurin’ t’ keep the coffee company in business, Jess?”

“Sure thing!” Jess was not put off by the sarcasm, for he had already seen Jonesy’s true heart showing in his care and concern for Andy and Slim.

“Git on outta my kitchen!” Jonesy waved a frying pan at him. “Y’ boss’ll be waitin’!”

Jess grinned. “On m’ way!” But he grabbed another half cup all the same. He figured he’d need to keep alert and ready for anything Slim might have in mind.

What Slim had in mind was to show Jess as much as was practicable of the ranch, the location of the boundaries and their weak places and to familiarise him with the various areas in which the herd were best served for grazing. It meant a long day’s riding and Slim was aware that Jess and his mount had travelled a hard trail to reach Laramie.

“You want to pick another horse from the corral? Yours could maybe do with a day off?” he suggested. “The near paddock’s empty and all ours are in the corral or the hill pasture.”

Jess paused at his horse’s stall, then nodded appreciatively.

“Come on, fella. Y’ gonna get a whole day’s grazin’, Zig!”

“Zig?” Andy’s voice piped up from the barn door. “That’s a strange name for a horse!”

Jess looked over with a grin. “It’s short for Reiziger. Sold me by a Dutchman. He said Dutch folk who lived out of wagons were called Reiziger – travellers – so he figured it was a good name for a horse who had a long way to lope.”

Andy came over and pulled the bay’s ears gently. “Traveller. A good name.”

“Yeah. Except he only answers to Zig,” Jess told him. “Guess I’m lucky I don’t have to speak Dutch to him all the time.”

“Tra ... vell ... er ...” Andy breathed out the name gently and the horse gave a soft whicker in response.

“If you’re rechristening him, y’ can put him out in the paddock too,” Jess suggested.

“Sure thing, come on, Traveller.”

“Enjoy y’self, Zig.” As Andy led the bay out to the near paddock, Jess gave the horse an affectionate slap on the rump. Then he strolled over to the corral and stood quietly surveying the available horses, before picking out a sturdy roan who looked to have plenty of stamina for the rugged terrain they would face.

“She’s a sweet mare,” Slim acknowledged approvingly.

“Just tell me she ain’t called Strawberry!” Jess remarked drily as he began to brush the mare down, prior to saddling her.

“Freckles,” Slim told him absently as he led his chestnut, Alamo, over to the rail and began saddling him.

Jess would have been happier on his own mount, but knew the horse had well earned the day’s rest he would get. If the truth be told, a day’s rest would have suited Jess too, but he could see Slim was eager to plunge into the work – and that, after all was what Jess was here for.

\- _And that’s all y’ here for, –_ Jess told himself sternly. _\- Any kinda relaxation ain’t gonna be comin’ any time soon, so quit bellyachin’! –_

With which thought, ignoring certain regions he’d rather have an ache in, he mounted up and followed Slim along the road aways towards Laramie and the western boundary of the ranch. Freckles proved to be an easy and amenable ride, sure-footed and obviously used to the varied terrain which the ranch covered.

Slim explained where the boundaries near the lake were, but didn’t bother riding them, since Jess was already acquainted with this section of the ranch. He obviously had not forgotten trying to run Jess off for trespassing: “Of course, the fencing doesn’t keep the jack-rabbits out, but it does keep the cattle in,” he added with a reminiscent grin.

Jess might have blushed, but if he did it was not because he regretted taunting his new employer. Instead he was recalling his first experience of being face to face with the tall, blond rancher and wishing Slim’s reminiscent grin was more than just humor. With serious determination, he set his mind to the work in hand. It was more important than daydreaming that he mapped mentally and memorized the country he would be covering, until he became totally familiar with it. Concentration was not only his professional duty but essential to his efficiency and safety.

Slim was clear and thorough in his introduction to the ranch and Jess could not help noticing again his pride in and love for the earth which was his. More evident now in Slim’s comments was also his pride in and love for his father, who was not long deceased, leaving Slim and Andy to inherit the ranch. Matthew Sherman – for this appeared to be the father’s name – was a man of vision as well as unflinching determination and saw a great future for the place as part of the booming cattle trade. It was evident his elder son shared his ambitions, even if the younger most definitely did not.

Riding alongside Slim for the first time in their working partnership, Jess experienced a mixture of feelings. It was something they had in common: the loss of a father. But Matthew Sherman had certainly been an entirely different type of father to Jabez Harper! Nothing could be more of a contrast, it seemed, than their upbringing. Jess was not given to envy, for he had found out the hard way that it usually got him nowhere, but he did wonder if Andy realized how fortunate he was in his family? It had been clear from Slim’s immediate and furious rejection of Jess’s accusation that he was waiting for an opportunity to ‘start beatin’ up on’ Andy, that Sherman senior had never used a violent hand on either of his sons and Slim had taken to heart his father’s example.

More than their family relations made the pair of them different. From their boots to the set of their gun-belts – from their physique to the way they rode – from the way they spoke to the way they thought – from who had been their enemy to who they would count as a friend! They were such distinctive individuals Jess almost felt daunted.

_\- Is it gonna work out? Is this another big mistake? Can we really be trustin’ each other, even if we’re as different as a buggy an’ a stagecoach? –_

Jess had had his trust broken and betrayed enough times to be wary. Yet something drew him inexplicably to the blond Yankee rancher and it wasn’t just the physical hunger which nagged from the locked and bolted cell where he had kept it at bay so long.

\- _Maybe it’s Slim’s bein’ single-minded about how it’s gonna work? –_

Such single-mindedness brought its own dangers, but they were ones which Jess found infinitely preferable to the callous pursuit of reward or reputation.

Single-minded Slim certainly was as he set about familiarizing his new hand with the parts of the ranch where trouble was most likely to occur. One such was a narrow defile carrying a sizable stream through a belt of trees on the eastern border of the ranch, where the shallow soil, running water and prevailing wind often combined to bring down sizable branches or even whole trees.

Sure enough, there was fallen trunk blocking the watercourse and causing the stream to back up and flood on either side into the grassland, turning a good stretch of grazing into a muddy swamp.

\- _Clearing it would be a ready made opportunity to seen how much effort the Texan was prepared to put into physical challenges_ – Slim thought to himself.

After a few moments’ consideration, he said: “Let’s put a couple of ropes round it and we’ll see if the horses can pull it clear.”

This proved less effective than they might have hoped. The branches of the tree dug into the wet bank of the defile and it proved impossible just to drag it out of the stream bed.

“We need to cut some of those branches,” Slim decided. He dismounted and unhitched the rope from his saddle horn, anchoring it instead to a nearby tree. When he had led Alamo to a suitable point above the slope, he dropped the reins and rummaged through his saddlebag, finally producing a short saw.

“I always carry one. It saves going back to the ranch every time you need one,” he explained.

“Yeah, I can see the point of it,” Jess agreed.

“And believe me,” Slim added grimly, “you’ll need a saw more often than you expect out here!”

Figuring he would be more use on his feet, Jess urged Freckles to the top of the slope, where he dismounted and left her ground-haltered alongside Alamo. He followed Slim’s example in tying his own rope to another tree, thereby ensuring the progress they had made in shifting the obstruction would not easily be lost. He turned back to help Slim and stopped abruptly as his pulse slammed into overdrive.

Slim’s outer clothes were piled to one side of the sloping bank and he was now standing bare-chested and brace-legged, clad in nothing but his drawers and thigh-deep in the flowing stream.

Jess gulped. With another type of man he would have read this as a not very subtle hint. Not that he would necessarily have responded to it, but nonetheless it would have triggered a certain definite possibilities for him to evaluate. However Slim, he was pretty certain, intended nothing of the kind.

\- _So why the hell’s he takin’ his clothes off? It ain’t even hot! –_

Certainly it was not particularly hot by Texan standards and Jess was baffled as well as frustrated. Nakedness was common enough in the bunkhouse, but out here it argued a degree of trust which surprised him.

Slim must have picked up on his expression because he explained casually: “There’s no sense in getting everything wet.”

“Figures,” Jess croaked, his voice thick with suppressed longing.

“Stay dry,” Slim advised as he began to saw determinedly at the recalcitrant tree. “You can clear the branches as I cut them.”

“Sure.” This time Jess had his voice more or less under control and was working hard at doing the same with his body. Their relative positions, with Slim below him with his head at more or less the level of Jess’s waist, certainly didn’t help. He forced himself to recall the experiences which had taught him that sex was not the be-all and end-all of life.

They worked hard for about ten minutes, after which the tree was in much more manageable shape. Slim was still working mainly thigh deep in the water and Jess had to admit more than a little admiration for his endurance, although the rancher seemed to think nothing of the temperature. Now Slim was on the down-stream side of the trunk, giving it a couple of heaving thrusts to roll it into a better position to be dragged clear.

This proved disastrous. The trunk was partly floating, despite being heavy, and shifted suddenly, forced into violent motion by gravity and the power of the damned up water. Despite the restraining ropes, it reared up like a live thing, then crashed down ponderously, sending up a huge fountain of water.

“Slim!” Jess yelled.

He plunged into the water as the log settled in a new position, hoping and praying it had not pinned his employer to the bed of the defile. He was swamped by churning water, mud, debris and bits of timber. For a second he could see nothing and his outstretched arms reached nothing.

Then another body struck his with all the force of 190 lb of solid muscle and bone, driven by the full power of the torrent.

Jess grappled the waterlogged body fiercely to him, using all his own wiry strength to prevent Slim being swept further down the defile. His arms were clasping the other man tightly and he managed to get a hold round Slim’s waist in order to half-heave, half-drag him up on to the bank.

There they collapsed together in a sodden heap. It was a far cry from Jess’s imaginings, but his only concern was to make sure Slim had not breathed in any water. He crawled up the rancher’s side and managed to turn him so that he was lying with his head towards the stream and lower than the rest of his body. Then he seized Slim’s jaw and forced his mouth as wide as he could, looking to clear any mud or debris he might have swallowed.

Fortunately Slim coughed convulsively and spat out the obstructing matter before Jess had to shove his fingers down his throat. Slim heaved in a shuddering breath and then another, but did not move from the position into which Jess had pushed him.

Jess ran his hands lightly over Slim’s comatose body, seeking any obvious sign of broken bones. The bare skin under his fingers felt silky smooth and cold from the water. Finding no sign of major damage, Jess knew he should retrieve Slim’s clothes and get him back into them as soon as possible. He let his gaze linger for a heartbeat on the glistening curves of firm flesh, then got to his feet and scrambled hastily up the slope. He seized the clothes and also grabbed the bedroll off Slim’s saddle. A blanket was not an ideal towel, but better than nothing. When he got back to his patient, he found Slim was breathing more naturally but still apparently stunned by the impact of the log.

Jess slid down beside the blond and maneuvered him round until he was no longer head downwards. This was no easy task, strong though Jess was, for Slim was solidly built of iron hard muscle and long bones. At last, however, Jess managed to get them both half-lying against the bank. He shook out the blankets and used one to dry both of them as best he could. Getting Slim back into his clothes would be a struggle until he fully recovered consciousness, an excuse which Jess seized gladly. He just draped the second blanket round them both and hauled Slim close into his arms so they could share some body heat.

The irony of this did not escape him.

*******

Dazed perception made Slim aware that he was no longer cold.

He felt … safe …

He felt … warm …

He felt … as if he never wanted to move again …

His body ached, the memory of a huge blow more devastating than the bruises and shock it had caused.

\- _But it was OK now. –_ Every fiber of his being was telling him so. – _He could trust entirely the strong arms supporting him. -_

Gradually he registered more than this sense of well-being and rightness. The warmth was coming from another body, pressed close against his own. He could feel every inch of it and the powerful muscles throbbing with heat beneath the wet clothes. The body was slightly shorter than his own – he could tell that by the length of the legs stretched out alongside him – but the chest pressing against his own was no less broad and powerful. The slim frame might be supple but yet it felt unshakable at the same time.

_\- Someone he could rely on! –_

But this did not fully account for the tingling warmth which flooded through him as he returned to full consciousness. Barely stopping to register this new sensation, Slim struggled to sit up and found the strong arms were guiding and supporting him.

“Easy!” a gravelly voice admonished, so close that the warm breath ruffled his hair. “Don’t go tryin’ t’ run before y’ can walk!”

“I can walk!” Slim asserted valiantly but optimistically, since his legs were numb with cold and shock.

“Maybe, but y’ ain’t gonna. Y’ can sit up,” the voice told him in amused tones as Slim was helped to do so. “How’re y’ feelin’?”

“Pretty numb from the hips down,” Slim admitted reluctantly.

“OK. I’m gonna rub y’ legs – try to get the circulation goin’ again. OK?” Jess pulled off his gloves, telling himself he could do a better job with his bare hands and ignoring how much he’d enjoy the contact.

“OK,” Slim acquiesced and felt hard fingers massaging the inside of his calves and thighs with a strength which was almost painful. But it was certainly effective and soon he felt the blood beginning to course again, another pain but nonetheless reassuring.

“How d’you feel now?”

“Better,” Slim responded with relief. “I can feel my legs again. I’m a bit bruised, but nothing’s broken. And I’m not cold any more, thanks to you.”

His companion shrugged. “No sweat!”

“Not for you.” Slim took in the other man’s condition. “You’re soaked.”

Jess shrugged again. “Ain’t nothin’.”

“You must be cold?”

This brought an attractive, growling laugh. “I’m so hot, y’ could cook a chicken on me!”

“Chicken? Jonesy will have supper ready before we get back if we don’t get a move on.”

“OK, right!” Jess was not averse to being fed again. He helped Slim to his feet and, with a supporting arm around him, steered him up the slope towards the horses. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but Jess wanted a few more precious moments of contact to remember – and Slim didn’t seem to mind. When they got to the top, though, Jess released his hold and turned back to the stream.

“What’re you doing?”

Jess looked surprised but explained: “We ain’t cleared the stream. I’ll see if the horses can shift that log now.”

“I’ll do it with you!” Slim volunteered immediately.

“Oh no y’ won’t!” A powerful hand pushed his chest and urged him into sitting position once more. “Haulin’ your carcass out o’ the stream once was enough!”

Slim could see bright blue eyes crinkled with laughter even though they were almost hidden behind the downward sweep of impossibly long thick lashes. He registered with surprise that he was being teased.

_\- Just like the jack rabbit! –_

“Sit there!” Jess commanded and his fingers gave another firm push to Slim’s chest.

“You’ll get wet!”

“I _am_ wet!”

This was certainly true. Jess’s pants and shirt were plastered to his body, outlining every curve and plane with a clarity which only wet fabric can achieve, not to mention revealing that they were all he was wearing. Something in Slim stirred with an appreciation of the fine-bladed sculpting of this – a beauty as natural and wild as the wing of a hawk or the sinew of a cougar.

What Jess thought at this juncture is probably best summed up as an acute thankfulness for his imminent immersion in more cold water and the subduing effects thereof!

In the event, the two horses were able to haul the tree trunk out of the defile without too much further drama. Jess made sure it was not going to stage a repeat performance once their backs were turned. When he was satisfied the stream would remain unblocked, he led Alamo over to Slim, making much of both horses as he did so.

Slim liked this. He liked too the way the Texan had responded coolly to the crisis.

 _\- Or was it warmly? –_ Slim could still feel where the lean, hard body had been pressed up against his own and his reaction to it, a kind of tingling awareness of something special which he could not at first identify. Then he realized that of course he’d felt such a glow of companionship during the war, in times of comforting wounded comrades and in sharing the elation of victory, the pain of defeat. It was a feeling he had missed – a sense of comradeship when men worked together for a common aim. _– He’d worried he’d made a rash decision, but now they’d literally been plunged into an emergency and he’d found he could rely totally on his new hand. And Jess had not been content to leave the defile blocked and just to go home and get dry and have a nice hot dinner! -_

“Well done,” Slim praised softly, as he settled into his saddle and turned Alamo’s head for home.

Jess shrugged casually. “I like to finish a job.”

“I guess you do, so thanks,” Slim smiled. “Let’s go get our supper!”

“Amen to that!” Jess hopped on to Freckles. He was beginning to feel uncomfortably cold in his wet garments now he had stopped vigorous activity, but figured a chill in certain regions was no bad thing.

\- _And hell, there’s a warm supper waitin’_! -


	2. Chapter 2

Living at the relay station was proceeding in a sufficiently relaxed manner to lull Jess into a sense of comfort, if not security. He genuinely enjoyed Andy’s company, was willing to take a keen interest in the boy’s undoubted skill with animals and had discovered they both shared a liking for practical jokes. This didn’t make him entirely popular with Slim, who seemed to have lot of trouble loosening up and letting go of his dignity, just as Jess had surmised initially. But he was content and frustrated in equal measures in working with his new boss and respected his firm and fair manner – at least he did when it wasn’t cramping Andy’s style too much. 

And mostly he managed to keep his own inconvenient attraction to the blond rancher under strict control. They had, for instance, arrived at an unspoken understanding which meant it was now routine that Slim would get up immediately after Jonesy and that Jess would follow him some minutes later. The acceptance of his reluctance to greet the sunrise enabled him to leave the shelter of his bedding only when he was certain Slim had definitely quit the bedroom, up to which point he continued to fake deep slumber. Of course this still left Jess with a problem to handle every morning, but fortunately Andy never woke until he had to and was therefore unlikely to get an educational eyeful of it.

This comfortable state of affairs was plunged into disarray much sooner than Jess had anticipated. He expected his past to catch up with him – it nearly always did – and usually, when it did, he was happy to move on and leave whatever job he had been involved in. His experiences had been such that he was not in the habit of allowing himself to form strong attachments to people or places. This time was different. He didn’t want to move on. The little family at the Sherman Relay Station had accepted him without asking the barrage of awkward questions usually posed by respectable folks and, for once in his mostly rootless life, Jess was willing to commit himself to more than just temporary employment. It was consummate irony therefore that the reason he had to leave was precisely in order to protect those he had become so rapidly attached to and had no wish to be parted from.

He had not bargained for Roany Bishop hunting him down. And ‘hunt’ was the operative word, for Roany was as ruthless and persistent as any predator. Jess’s mind leaped immediately into emergency mode – his one thought was that Roany must not find him here. At all costs he must prevent the man coming into any prolonged contact with the relay station’s kindly inhabitants, who were in no way proof against the evil which drove Roany. Especially Andy, with his natural friendliness and curiosity about strangers. It certainly did not help to have to ask Andy to say he’d left and still less that the boy sensed all too clearly Jess’s fear. But a reputation for being a coward was a small hurt to bear if it sent Roany on his way.

It hurt a lot more to hear Roany talking about Jess being “rooted down for good”. – _Some wish! Just when y’d found somewhere y’ did wanna put down a few roots, a troublesome bit o’ the past appears t’wreck it. But darn that! All that matters now is gettin’ Roany to move on. –_

And from the yard, he could hear the clear, joyful voice of a woman, declaring to Jonesy: “A good name is rather to be desired than great riches.” Jess just knew another opportunity to establish any such good name for himself was being wrenched out of his grasp by a torrential flood of debt and obligation, which was going to sweep him on his way once more. And that sure as hell wasn’t making him rich either!

It seemed he had an ally in the woman Roany was riding with. She wasn’t Roany’s type at all, if past experience was anything to go by, and Jess was far from happy about the pair travelling on together in her wagon. But there was no help for it now. Once they were away from the relay station and Andy was safe, he’d have time and someplace else to try to free the woman from such dangerous company.

“Come along. Time to go,” the woman’s cheerful, confident voice rang out again. Jess heartily agreed, but he was surprised the woman had such command over Roany. He just hoped her confidence was not misplaced.

At least the wagon was rolling away, bearing the danger with it, but a more localized trouble was rolling over the yard in its wake. Jess could see Slim towering over Andy, his smooth lips stern as they moved and his brow furrowed. It didn’t take much intelligence to guess Andy was getting chewed out for following Jess’s order.

Jess made a beeline for the door, but he had scarcely made it outside when he was face to face with a coldly furious Slim. If it had been a hot rage, Jess could have related to it, responded in kind, no doubt. - _But Slim’s so darn’ sure he’s got right on his side! –_ And was that ever difficult to combat and maddening in its inflexibility. - _Just let the man try handlin’ the likes of Roany Bishop and he might learn a lesson in the need for lyin’! -_

Inside the house – and at the back of his mind Jess appreciated that his dressing-down was not going to take place in front of Andy – the two of them squared up just the way they had on their first encounter in there. Jess heaved an inward sigh.

“You got any lies to tell after this, you tell them yourself.”

“I’ll make a note.”

He made straight for the door once more. The need to race after the wagon and somehow get the woman away from Roany was now paramount.

“Jess.” A hand landed on his arm, the simple touch stopping him as no force could have. “Who was that man? Why didn’t you want to see him?”

“That’s my business.” Jess was reluctant to waste more time, but he still faced Slim eye to eye.

“Getting Andy to lie for you makes it mine too.”

Maybe there was some justification in this, but, as usual, Slim was not giving Andy credit for being able to make up his own mind about his actions. “Not for me it doesn’t,” Jess snapped back.

“I’m waiting, Jess.”

Jess’s patience was running out. He didn’t want a quarrel with Slim, but if he had to leave on such a note, it would not be much different from the way they’d started out. He just didn’t have to like it or the look in Slim’s eyes. His own eyes involuntarily dropped down, sliding sideways, his long lashes shadowing them.

“Well you’ll wait a long time!”

“When a man comes looking for you and you won’t face up to him, I’ve got a right to know about it.”

\- _The hell y’have! Y’ ain’t anywhere near claimin’ rights over me, more’s the pity! And there’s far more to know about me than y’ll ever wanna hear! –_ Jess glanced up at the other man quickly, then equally quickly looked away again, his eyes nearly closing in an effort to contain his emotions. If this was the way Slim reacted to problems in his household, he would be well rid of Jess Harper and all the trouble riding on his tail.

“Well?”

Jess steeled himself for one last good look at Slim Sherman, letting his eyes run up and down the tall, powerful body so close to him. He drew in a deep breath and decided maybe some of the truth wouldn’t go amiss.

“He saved my life once.”

Slim looked totally taken aback. “Why did you duck him?”

“Because I wanted to.” _– Ain’t givin’ y’ more t’ judge me about, ‘cause y’ always right anyway. –_

This was decidedly unfair, since Jess actually had only Slim’s conduct to Andy to go on, but he certainly was not impressed by the older man’s attitude to his brother.

“You got anything against a straight answer?” Slim demanded angrily.

Jess’s chin came up defiantly and he looked directly at Slim once more. “You’ve got all the answers y’re gettin’ from me!”

And then the door opened. Opened so that Jess was caught behind it. Concealed. At least for the moment.

\- _Go on! Give me away! Y’ know it’s the right thing to do!_ – He was so sure Slim’s self-righteous streak, as Jess had labelled it on first acquaintance, coupled with his own brutally blunt and uncompromising responses would undo all the budding friendship and trust between them which they had been building so carefully in their working life.

Everything hung in the balance, as if time had stopped and Slim was being given an illimitable pause to make the choice of trusting Jess, even if Jess could not trust him with the whole truth of the matter in return. Jess had to admit to himself it looked like a poor deal from an uncertain deck as far as Slim was concerned. Better for Jess to give himself over to Roany’s undoubted demands now and try to shift them both far away from the ranch and Andy – and, if he was honest, Jonesy and Slim himself. This motivation surged to the fore again, alongside his desire to help the woman.

Their eyes met and held once more – hope pleading in Jess’s, though he would never have given voice to any appeal, and a struggle between principle and liking all too clear in Slim’s.

\- _An’ now’s the time y’ decide y’ wanna like me! –_ Jess’s heart was urging him to confide, even though bitter experience had taught him more than once that his baggage was not something others wanted to know about, let alone share the carrying thereof.

The choice was taken away from them both. Ronay had come back for some help to fix the wagon and spotted Jess without any help from Slim, who just watched the encounter with deep worry shadowing his eyes. All through the mundane greetings and Jess’s promise to accompany Roany “as soon as I get my gear”, the two young men barely took their eyes off each other. The contact, however, did nothing to resolve the situation.

All that remained was for Jess to saddle up and ride out. – _Story o’ my life! –_

As usual, no-one was wishing him ‘God speed’. – _Though God knows y’ gonna need it! –_ His only farewell was an argument with Andy he could well have done without. The youngster was far too perceptive of Jess’s real feelings about Roany. It struck Jess to the heart and was the cause of his snarling out: “You think what you like!” It was a cry of desperation to all three of his new companions, for he knew they would not understand the danger from the old one who had arrived so unexpectedly.

But he had seen the really evil look Roany shot at Andy and how his threatening eyes had immediately gone to the hot iron on the coals of the forge. – _Time t’ leave! And t’ leave regrets behind y’. -_

As soon as he’d secured his gear, Jess hopped into the saddle and an easy lope had him catching up with the wagon repairers without much effort. He was taken aback when Roany greeted him with a question which was not Jess’s to answer: “Hey, Jess, Miss Essie likes the way Jonesy plays the piano. Could he come on into Laramie with us?”

Fumbling for a response which would prevent Jonesy going any further with this ill-assorted and potentially volatile party without antagonizing Roany, Jess muttered, “How would he get back?”

As he answered, Slim came round the wagon, having finished fitting the new brake. He moved deliberately between Roany and Jess. He turned his back on Jess. But it did not feel like rejection or exclusion. To his surprise, Jess found it reassuring, as if the two of them were linked together as one unit again, both of them facing up to Roany. Slim had chosen to take on Roany’s demands and, because Jess was shielded by his body, it felt as if Slim was on Jess’s side.

The negotiations which followed passed right over Jess’s head, so taken was he with this glimmer of hope.

When the time came to part, there was no ‘goodbye’ between him and Slim. Goodbye was more final than the tenuous thread of understanding between them might stand. Jess looked over his shoulder as Slim walked away, imprinting on his heart and mind the tall, powerful figure and praying that, in the future, he would be able to trust such a retreat meant no division between them.

Slim turned for a brief second, a rueful smile on his lips as he looked back, as if he knew he could not fully understand their situation, but was trusting Jess to make the right choices. The smile widened a little as he set his face to the ranch and relay station, almost as if he was affirming where he belonged and that he was not going any place else – he would still be there if and when Jess managed to come back. A small answering smile touched Jess’s lips and he nodded to himself, taking hope that he was not totally rejected.

Then the wagon rolled on towards Laramie and Jess followed it.

***********

Slim continued to walk stoically back to his home and the work he had pledged his whole self to. He snatched only one swift glance over his shoulder and saw the wagon disappearing round the next bend and Jess urging his mount alongside it. In that fleeting glimpse it seemed as if Jess was being carried away by a river of secret circumstances into which he had chosen to plunge and which he was fighting to control. The whole situation and Jess’s relationship to Roany Bishop was undoubtedly fraught with trouble and Slim was, for once, unsure of the right path and what his part should be.

His own words came back to haunt him now: “Some trouble is worth it!” Jess was worth support and friendship, Slim was as sure of this as he had been when he made his offer of a job. He simply could not see how to give these necessities in a way which would help Jess and not drive him further into the aggressive defensiveness which Slim’s questions had provoked.

Thinking back to the confrontation between Jess and Roany – for it certainly didn’t sound like an enthusiastic meeting of old friends - little details came vividly into Slim’s recollection. Like Jess’s face as the door swung open to conceal him momentarily from Roany: Slim was sure Jess was fearless for his own safety, yet there was something akin to terror in his eyes. The Texan’s whole body, usually so full of fluid grace, was tense as a coiled-up rattler and his hands were clenching and opening in a tell which Slim realized must indicate some very powerful emotion or restraint of action. All Jess’s physical responses were shouting silently that something was very wrong. Slim himself had taken an instant dislike to Roany Bishop, but part of him also wondered why Jess had so suddenly changed his mind and opted to go off with someone else – and such a someone else - so soon. Jess seemed to have fitted in very well at the relay station and Slim was under no illusion that this was in a large part due to his relationship with Andy.

All of which left Slim having to deal with Andy’s reaction to Jess’s departure.

They did not talk.

Slim had never been in Andy’s situation: when he was growing up, the biggest influence in his life, the stability and the empathy, was all down to their father. Now Slim was left to cope with what was, he belatedly appreciated, for Andy the severance of far more than some childish adulation for an imagined hero. There was a deep and genuine connection between Andy and the drifter Slim had so easily – thoughtlessly even – invited into their home. 

Slim’s go-to response to any emotional crisis was practical action, so his instinct was to try to distract Andy with the routine work of the relay station. But his own disciplined, realistic response did not help his little brother.

“Think he’ll ever come back, Slim?”

“You mean Jess? I don’t know, Andy. This is the way Pa had it planned, us two running the place together. We’ll get along.” This was the heart of Slim’s philosophy of life, so far, but somewhere deep inside, a change was growing. All he could do now, though, was admit: “Jess has got a right to go if he wants.”

“I guess so.”

At Andy’s words, Slim’s throat moved in a little gulp ...

*******

The passage to Laramie matched up pretty well to Jess’s fears. Before they had gotten anywhere near the town, Roany had attacked all three of them in different ways, not to mention nearly wrecking both the wagon and the passing stagecoach. Jess had been fully prepared to shoot Roany to stop him assaulting Miss Essie, and yet something about the man still drew his compassion, making him loath to kill. Perhaps it was Roany’s distrust of people, his loneliness and his contradictory search for approval and friendship which struck a chord with Jess. But perhaps Roany’s apology was only intended to prevent the bullet he knew he deserved?

Jess was glad and relieved to ride back and pick up Jonesy, whom he found stomping determinedly along the trail after them. He knew the old man had a bad back and had been fearing the worst, but Jonesy made light of his fall. His antipathy for horses rendered him reluctant to ride double with Jess to catch up the wagon and he only acquiesced because they both feared to leave Miss Essie alone with Roany for too long. Jess kept quiet for now about his anxiety for Jonesy himself, resolving to keep a watchful eye on his interaction with Roany, who was already harboring both anger and envy towards the cook. It was a potentially lethal combination.

Once in Laramie, it was all too obvious the piano was going to be the cause of a load of trouble. The bar keeper agreed to hosting Miss Essie’s Sunday meeting, persuaded partly by her simple enthusiasm and practicality and partly by Roany’s unspoken threat. Then the piano had to be safely installed with much heavy lifting. Jonesy had already established his undoubted skill as a pianist and Jess knew this foreboded trouble, about which he should warn the man he was becoming more and more attached to.

Jonesy was too old a hand to take strangers at face-value, although Miss Essie’s generous inclusive friendship served to mitigate Roany’s aggression somewhat. His shrewd assessment that “this Roany don’t seem like the life-saving kind to me,” earned Jess’s respect and reinforced his liking for the old cook. So it was that he confided in Jonesy the very details which he had refused to give Slim – the rescue when a busted leg would have killed him in the end and his discovery of Roany’s violent response to anyone who he judged to be mocking or laughing at him.

Jonesy greeted this information with the characteristic sardonic humor which Jess had seen in the confrontation with Bud Carlin. “I guess I’m on my way back to the ranch right now. I don’t laugh much but I do crack a smile now and then.”

“He wants you to stay,” Jess warned. “Just don’t cross him!”

He was about to go and check what Roany was actually doing, but Jonesy took Jess by the arm, just like Slim had. The physical touch stirred up instantly the pain of their argument and Slim’s misunderstanding of Jess’s motives. Jonesy was much more perceptive.

“You didn’t want him ‘round Andy. That’s the reason y’ pulled out.”

Circumstances fortunately intervened to prevent Jess from having to admit his reasons to anyone other than himself although, faced with Jonesy’s shrewd and sympathetic understanding, he was beginning to question why he had not confided in his new-found friends, when they were so open with him.

\- _Just ain’t used t’ trustin’ anyone. Just used t’bein’ a stranger no-one knows or cares about! –_

These thoughts were uppermost in his mind as Jess listened to Jonesy tentatively learning to play ‘Rock of Ages’. He understood the power of guilt and the desperate need for someone to see beyond it. And he guessed for Roany someone who simply accepted him as a fellow human being would be a rock he would want to shelter behind. Roany himself confirmed as much, when they were drinking in the other saloon, for he proudly told Jess “she never once made light of me.” Personal relationships were a powerful driving force for this rootless man, much as they were in a completely different way for Jess himself. The only problem was that Roany regarded relationships as a form of currency: “You owe me something ... I guess you’d be glad to do most anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

\- _Would y’? –_ Jess was questioning his own motives and the relationships he was trying to protect and salvage at the same time. He went on questioning all through the evening, especially when he listened to Miss Essie’s story about being rooted in a relationship and the power of small things like the scent of honeysuckle. He remembered vividly the instant when Slim grinned and told him “Why don’t we take that chance? Come on, we’ll be late for supper,” and Andy’s shout of joy as they rode down the ridge together, “They’re back! Slim’s back and Jess is with him!” and the lamp-lit warmth of the simple supper at the ranch house table. Yet the quietness, the blessed peace of sitting at rest, simply talking with people he trusted, seemed so fragile beneath the looming deluge of violence he felt hanging over them all. He went on thinking, even when he had followed Roany to the hotel and fallen thankfully into his own quiet bed.

> _‘One more river to cross_
> 
> _and that wide river is Jordan.'_

Even though he was flat on his back on a lumpy hotel mattress, it seemed to Jess he was facing that river crossing. _\- Must be the thought of bein’ plunged into a Noah’s flood o’ troubles, or maybe it’s the catchy tune y’ all learnt as young ‘uns.-_ Because he simply could not get the song out of his head, no matter how he tried to force himself to sleep. But the words Miss Ellie had got them to sing were not exactly the ones running through Jess’s mind. Of course his delight was not the drum or the boom of the cannon and he was very far from feeling ‘ _to be a soldier is my joy, I ask for nothing more.’_ But deep inside, in that locked away part, he treasured the comradeship around the campfire – the jokes, songs, laughter, warmth and precious intimacy which only those close to death can share.

With the desire growing ever stronger in him, he could not but recall that Jordan was the boundary of the Promised Land – the place of milk and honey towards which you set your heart and mind and spirit – the place you yearned and struggled and suffered to reach. The preachers taught that you couldn’t get to the Promised Land until you were dead – but Jess had been touched by hope of a more immediate place of sweetness, where what he had suffered and its guilt could perhaps be purged and he become whole because there people would know and accept all that he was.

> _‘A joyous place to come,_
> 
> _to meet our comrades side by side.’_

He’d fought side by side with Slim, just as he had those other beloved comrades. He wanted it again, now, before death took him.

***********

His awakening was a struggle, dragging him up from a chasm of disturbing dreams which heralded all the tragedy the day was to bring. Roany was brandishing a lighted oil lamp over his head. Its impending danger was a precursor of what Roany could do if he chose.

And yet the pre-dawn conversation stirred those hidden depths in Jess. Roany was in love and believed himself to be loved, perhaps for the first time in his life. He too wanted a place to rest, to settle, to become rooted. He was simply much surer of his welcome than Jess was.

Even Miss Essie’s preaching seemed to reinforce his belief, for she spoke fervently about acceptance and love, comparing it to the special love between a woman and a man. What Roany did not see was that Miss Essie’s welcome extended to everyone – or at least he did not understand until he heard, for the first time, her love for humanity in all its shapes and shades.

But this love did not call out an answering one from Roany. The storm broke and they were plunged into the maelstrom Jess had feared all along. Yet still he could not bring himself to ignore Roany’s pain and make himself deal only the deadly madness which threatened all those who drew close to this lonely wanderer. Roany had trusted him with the revelation of his love and all his dreams. Jess knew what shattered dreams were like and the splinters buried deep in the heart which you would carry for life.

Such knowledge drove him to one last attempt to reason with the man who saw only that his devotion had been betrayed and humiliated.

“You wouldn’t hurt anything you loved!”

But Roany’s answer was the truth as he felt it: “I wouldn’t hurt anything that loved me.”

There was the pain of a lifetime in that statement and it was too powerful to overcome or turn Roany from his murderous intent. There came the moment when Jess’s finger was on the trigger of Miss Essie’s rifle.

Then chill darkness was all Jess knew ..........

....................................................................

“You ain’t drinkin’ him outta y’ mind!”

Jonesy pried the bottle from Jess’s hand and replaced it on the nightstand. He looked down with compassion at the young man sprawled on the hotel bed. He was not drunk, although the level in the bottle suggested he ought to be. He just looked ... ashamed ... and bereft.

It was understandable he should feel some guilt, given that the man had saved his life, but most people would fully justify his action in killing Roany. The sheriff certainly did. And the townsfolk who had scattered so quickly. Miss Essie, though she mourned the loss of a life in which she saw good, knew she owed her own to Jess. Jonesy? Well, Jonesy was a shrewd old bird and had been thinking hard about how Jess had dealt with a threat which only he really understood.

\- _He was protectin’ Andy, that’s for sure. And Slim didn’t give him so much as a ‘good luck’, not even a ‘goodbye’, so he’s gotta be wonderin’ now! –_

Jess lay quiet, those bright blue eyes closed, his lashes making a deep half-circle beneath his lids, his dark brows drawn down, his lips pressed together in a straight line. Yet underlying the apparent stillness Jonesy could sense there ran a deep tension of grief. Platitudes were not going to help this young man any!

“Y’ aimin’ t’ stay in bed, like y’do most days?” Jonesy sat down on the edge of the bed and gave Jess a good poke in the ribs. “There’s work waitin’.”

Jess’s eyes flashed open and he glared at Jonesy. “Guess my work ain’t up to the right standard.”

“Well, that depends on what work y’ talkin’ about, don’t it?” Jonesy said much more gently. Jess started to open his mouth but thought the better of it as the old man went on inexorably, “Y’see the way I figure it, y’ done work with that fancy gun o’ yours before. Else y’d never have been quick enough t’ take down a man who was gonna kill an innocent, lovin’ woman and probably a whole lotta other folk. Ain’t sayin’ Roany didn’t have reasons for his feelings, but he sure needed someone t’show him how t’ express ‘em.” Jonesy looked keenly at Jess’s grieving face. “Y’ did that. Y’ tried real hard to show him how. T’ give him another way.”

“I put a bullet in him!” Jess jerked up into sitting position and reached for his cigarettes beside the nearly empty whisky bottle on the night stand. “Him. An’ before him, Pete.” He bent his head over the match he had struck, then lifted hard eyes in an impassive face.

Jonesy wasn’t fooled and he wasn’t backing down either. “Pete? That’s the fella y’ was lookin’ for, first time we saw y’?”

Jess nodded.

“An’ I suppose he was as clean an’ innocent as yesterday’s laundry?”

“He was ridin’ with Bud Carlin.”

“Then I guess he got what he was askin’ for.”

“He was a friend!” Jess shuddered involuntarily.

“Same friend Andy said bust y’ head an’ left y’ for dead an’ stole all y’ winnings?”

“Yeah. That one.” Jess took a long drag on the cigarette, his face still impassive.

“Seems t’ me, young man, y’ could be a bit more careful in y’ choice o’ friends!” Jonesy pointed out. It was nothing more than God’s own truth, yet he believed Jess would always give any offer of friendship, of comradeship, a more than fair chance. Jonesy had seen many young men, rootless and adrift, devoid of the empathy needed to sustain a relationship after the devastation of the war which had set them at each other’s throats.

 _\- Jess ain’t like that! –_ Jonesy was fiercely convinced because this young Confederate had shown a sincere willingness to get along with a Yankee rancher, his once-enemy.

“Yeah, guess I’ll ride on an’ take whatever work comes my way. Ain’t got no need for friends!” The last opinion seemed to stamp out all hope as effectively as Jess now stubbed out his cigarette.

“Yes, y’ have!” Jonesy insisted. “Y’ just need the right ones. And y’ can’t always choose the work y’ have to do, either. But when y’ do have a choice, don’t hand me that stuff ‘bout not likin’ ranchin’.”

“So the rancher owner’s gonna give me another chance at it?” Jess asked drily. “Seein’ as how he has such high standards of always bein’ right, that ain’t seemin’ very likely.”

“Y’ ain’t gonna find out unless y’ ask!” Jonesy told him roundly. “Now git outta that bed and tidy y’self up somethin’ respectable. We got a buryin’ t’ do!”

Some hours later he and Jess and Miss Essie stood together in the silent graveyard. There had been a surprising number of townsfolk at the funeral and plenty who had even come out as far as the cemetery, perhaps moved by Miss Essie’s example or perhaps honouring Jess’s action in saving them.

Now the crowd had departed and the three of them stood looking down at the headstone marking a new grave mound.

‘ _There the wicked cease from troubling and the weary be at res_ t.’

“I sure hope so,” Jess murmured softly. “He had a troubled enough life.”

Miss Essie laid a hand on his arm and said, “He’s at rest now, Jess. Lay down the guilt and don’t give power to all that went wrong.”

Jonesy shook his head. He loved Miss Essie and admired her unwavering faith, but he knew the young man had a long way to go before he could accept this was the right solution.

“You travellin’ on now, Miss Essie?” Jonesy asked as the wagon bore them back to town, with Jess riding beside it as he had done before.

“I surely am, Jonesy! I’ll miss you all and your piano playing for certain, but the Good Lord is calling and he’s away down the trail in front of me right now.”

“We’re all gonna miss you too, Miss Essie, if y’ ain’t gonna put down roots with us in Laramie.”

“You sure it’s not my piano you’ll be missing, Jonesy?”

“Well, that too, Miss Essie,” Jonesy admitted honestly. “But I guess there’s bin an end to that piano for all of us, barin’ some miracle. Seems a darn’ shame - an instrument is a precious possession. Slim’s told me for a long time I oughtta have one, but it’d need a too big a miracle on my pay!”

Miss Essie smiled at him. “Never underestimate the power of miracles, Jonesy!”

It was the next morning that Miss Essie was ready to take to the road again. Since there was no other obvious claimant, Jess had insisted that she keep Ronay’s saddle. After all, he had wanted to use its value for Miss Essie’s benefit and with it she would be able to raise funds to help the needy.

Jonesy said his farewells as Miss Essie had insisted on paying his fare on the early morning stage back to the relay station. Miss Essie and Jess waved him off and then Jess escorted her to the town blacksmith, who had been charged with salvaging what he could of the wrecked piano.

“Yeah, I got it out the back here,” the man assured them. “The case is sound enough – it fell flat. But you ain’t never going to get some of them rods to play again.”

“Can you replace those?” Miss Essie asked eagerly.

“Not unless you’ve got a very long time to wait, lady. Some of the parts would have to come from over the East and the good Lord alone knows how long that would take.”

“The good Lord always has a way,” Miss Essie insisted firmly. “I’m off today, but Jess here needs that piano. And he needs it working!”

“I do?” Jess’s eyebrows disappeared under his hat.

“You do,” Miss Essie told him. “I saw your face when Jonesy was playing and you don’t fool me for one minute, Jess Harper!”

“I was goin’ to make you an offer for it,” Jess admitted sheepishly. “But I figured y’ wouldn’t want to sell, it bein’ a family heirloom.”

“For Jonesy, I’d sell it to you,” Miss Essie assured him. “And now you can have it for free, if we can find some way to mend it.” She sounded doubtful, despite her faith in miracles, because town blacksmiths do not usually do delicate surgery on the internal workings of musical instruments.

“The case is fine,” the said smith repeated. “And most of the stringing too. All it needs is a lot of rods and the pedals and some of the hammers replacing.”

“Y’ seem to know all about it?” Jess queried in surprise. He had the same opinion of blacksmiths as Miss Ellie did.

“My brother-in-law learnt tuning, once upon a time, to impress a certain girl he was courting, and found he could make a business out of it,” the smith grinned. “Since m’sister was the girl, we went into partnership. I learnt a lot about the workings from him.”

A sudden thought struck him. “He might be the answer, the miracle we need.”

Miss Ellie’s faith was catching!

“How come?” Jess was still skeptical.

“He has a neighbor who’s been complaining she wants to get rid of her piano. The casing’s gone, gotten scorched in a fire they had, but the workings are still there. They’d just need transferring to this one. She’d probably pay you to take it away!”

“Where’s she live?” Jess demanded impatiently.

“It’ll take you the inside of a week, there and back,” the smith warned.

“I’m on my way!” Jess retorted. “Just point me in the right direction.”

He clasped Miss Ellie’s hand, but she was having none of that and pulled him into a hearty hug.

“God speed to you, Miss Ellie. An’ pray for a miracle. I need your prayers!”

“You have them always, Jess. Now get going!”

***********

The notes of the piano were slightly stumbling but silver-clear in the peaceful air of the living room. It was a long time since Jess had heard the plaintive melody and his fingers were only guessing at the keys.

“Y’ just waitin’ for the touch o’ the master!” he told the piano and ran down one last scale to reassure himself that the blacksmith had done a reasonably good job of getting her in tune again. Miracles certainly happened, but perfection was not a guarantee.

Now, barring a miracle for himself, all he had to do was get going while the going was good. No sense in hoping for a second chance if there was no-one here to give him one.

He’d been surprised the wagon had not been noticed pulling into the yard and even more surprised to find the ranch house open and nobody around the place. He’d been expecting to face some kind of confrontation, but nothing had happened as the blacksmith and his side-kick unloaded the piano and the three of them manhandled it inside.

Nothing had happened when the wagon drove off. Still nothing as Jess made a last check on the condition of the piano. It was a tough one, that piano, if it had survived so many miles on the back of Miss Essie’s wagon.

\- _A mere twelve from Laramie ain’t gonna shake it up none_. –

Jess felt in his pocket for the note he had written to Jonesy just in case: he’d reckoned the old cook would be about his work, but you never could tell, as the present situation was proving. He knew he was prevaricating. The emptiness of the house echoed the emptiness in his heart. There was nothing left now but to hit the trail again. Time had come to walk out of that door.

The door burst open.

“Jess!”

Andy raced across the room and flung himself boisterously at Jess, whose reflexes were fortunately sufficiently swift to catch him.

In that instant, everything changed.

“Hi, pard’ner!” Jess swung the excited boy in a circle, feeling the jubilation of Andy’s unreserved welcome once more. Evidently Jonesy had set him right about Roany and the reasons for Jess quitting the ranch so abruptly. And if Andy had the true picture, presumably so did Slim.

Jess looked over Andy’s head at the two who had rushed in after him. They were both grinning like lunatics. Something inside him eased from taut state of defensive anticipation which had been riding him since Jonesy had lectured him in Laramie.

\- _Just ask, he said._ _Sure hope the old boy’s right! –_

Jonesy himself was gazing at the piano wide-eyed. “It can’t be! Nobody could have fixed that ever!”

“Miss Essie said we all gotta expect miracles. The blacksmith in Laramie used to deal with pianos before he came west.”

“Boy, he’s a genius!”

 _\- A darn’ quick genius, if he’s paid enough! –_ Jess grinned to himself. After all, he’d gotten the innards of the piano for nothing, so he was able and happy to pay every cent he’d earned at poker in the nights on the road to speed up the repairs. He’d felt slightly sorry for the blacksmith, who parted with the instrument with regret – presumably he was glad for once to work on something which kept still and didn’t kick, bite or burn your fingers.

Jonesy’s fingers meanwhile were obviously itching to tickle the ivories. Jess deposited Andy gently on the floor and grinned an invitation to the impatient pianist. “Slim said long ago you should have a piano. It’s from the four of us –”

There was surprise all round but he continued firmly as he moved past Jonesy on the piano stool to face his boss: “Us three and Miss Essie.” As he spoke his mind was filled with doubt again. _– Is that presumin’ too much? Is there an ‘us three’. Or am I gettin’ shown the door again? –_

Slim’s grin grew even broader, if that was possible.

“Good to have you home, Jess.”

To Jess’s eternal surprise and instant delight, Slim reached out and draped an arm round his shoulders. The warm weight sent shivers of pleasure down his spine which for a split second he allowed himself to enjoy before ruthlessly suppressing the feeling.

_\- It’s just a gesture. Like his hand on y’ thigh. He ain’t meanin’ anything except a welcome! –_

Wrestling with a desire to turn and fling both arms round Slim in a far from brotherly hug, maybe even jump him the way Andy had greeted Jess, he kept his shoulders stiff and his hand on his hip, his bent elbow keeping a space between their bodies. He was not sure he could cope with anything else: it was at once both more and less than he needed.

_\- Y’ accepted back. That’s enough of a miracle. -_

But fate or some other miraculous force had not finished dealing Jess’s hand yet. Jonesy began to play, not a hymn, but the song he’d composed himself. The simple words of ‘ _Marry me in Laramie_ ’ rang out cheerfully as the others joined in with Jonesy.

It was almost too much for Jess. He’d been expecting only to leave the gift with Jonesy and take off pronto, always supposing he avoided another fight with Slim, which would lead to the same thing anyway. Now suddenly he was enveloped in the warmth of the family life as if he had never left and they were all round the piano singing about marrying, settling down, raising kids.

\- _Guess that’s what Slim’ll be aimin’ to do, sooner or later ... -_

It was almost too much indeed. Jess was within an ace of moving away, separating himself from an intimacy which was so painfully both less than he wanted and more than he could bear.

“Say that you love me some night when above me the Wyoming moon is aglow ...” 

Slim’s arm tightened around his shoulders and his hand gave Jess an encouraging squeeze.

Jess succumbed. His arm seemed to lift of its own volition, his hand brushed up the tight denim, the smooth leather of the belt, and slipped round Slim’s waist.

Warm. Solid. Strong. Oblivious.

Jess sighed silently.

\- _If y’ can’t get what y’ want, y’ gotta want what y’can get! –_


	3. Chapter 3

\- _No Casanova, huh? –_

Jess was ostensibly concentrating on the poker game, but his peripheral vision was excellent, except that it wasn’t when it was filled with the sight of the girls clustering round Slim at the bar.

It was the first night off they’d had since Jess had come to live at the relay station. Usually they were too darn’ tired to do more than listen to a couple of melodies from Jonesy on his beloved piano before falling into their respective beds. There’d been another clash over the piano, when Slim had tried to pay Jess a share of the costs and found, to his cost, exactly how stubborn Jess could be when he put his mind to it. It should have given the rancher warning of things to come, but he wasn’t losing any sleep over it – yet. After long days of work, they both slept soundly all night long. Though not without dreams. Jess’s dreams made particularly stimulating viewing, if you were that way inclined, and had him frustrated to the point of practically chewing the sheets each morning. Slim’s dreams would not have ruffled the down in the pillow – yet.

A night out in Laramie was a chance to relax and get to know each other in a different context, although neither of them put it in those terms. All Jess did was remind Slim more than once that he’d promised to buy him a drink when they’d parted at Baxter’s Ridge. It was also a chance for Jess to make sure Roany’s ghost was not haunting the saloon. He wouldn’t have put it past the dead man, but hoped that Miss Essie’s influence had prevailed and the troubled soul was now truly and finally at rest.

The barkeep made no demur about serving Jess again. This might have been due to Slim’s reputation, which Jess was witnessing in the community for the first time, or more likely the fact that Jess’s action had saved a congregation of potential customers from massacre by a madman. Besides, shootings were not uncommon in saloons, usually from some trouble over a card game.

Jess hauled his attention back to the one he was involved in. He might have been surprised and more than a little amused if he had been able to hear Slim’s chat with the girls. Far from being flirtatious, it resembled an interrogation.

“Who’s the good-looker you walked in with?”

“What’s your new hand’s name, Slim?”

“Where’s he come from - he’s a stranger round here.”

“Maybe not a stranger if you’ll introduce us!”

“Isn’t he the sharp shooter – the one who saved those hymn singing folks?”

“Looks like he’s a sharp card player – think he’ll buy us all a drink if he wins?”

“Nice company you’re keeping - Come on, Slim, don’t keep him to yourself!”

No doubt in the normal course of events, they’d have besieged Jess himself, but the girls had been around long enough to know you didn’t interrupt a serious game of poker. Not that Jess would actually have cared. Neither poker nor women were central to his life, more like tassels on the fringe of it. Jess didn’t mind women, in fact he liked them and generally got on well with them, particularly if they were good cooks! Women had their attractions and he’d had liaisons enough to appreciate a pretty face and a good figure. But women always wanted to tie you down: they needed to be married because it was, for most of them, the only security a woman had. Jess had been on his own almost as long as he cared to remember. There were bits he deliberately didn’t remember about the time before that and other bits of his lone drifting which he would rather not dwell on. On the whole, though, he liked the Big Open better than domesticity and big men better than slender girls, provided they didn’t assume he was a push-over just because they were six foot something and built like a barn. Some had made this mistake and lived, more or less, to regret it!

When he decided he had won enough to satisfy his needs without causing too much regret to his fellow players, Jess chucked in his cards and scooped up his winnings. Slim was still at the bar, talking now to a man he obviously knew quite well. The conversation was a serious one about the likely price their stock might fetch next year. Jess leaned an elbow on the bar, keeping half-turned to the room, as was his usual habit. The barkeep went for a beer glass, but Jess shook his head and pointed to the whisky bottle.

“An’ three glasses.”

He paid and, when the cork had been pulled, tipped the bottle interrogatively towards Slim and his companion.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Sam, this is Jess Harper. He’s working with me.” The words ‘for now’ seemed to hang unspoken in the air. Slim was still not sure that the Big Open would not lure Jess away, or some other facet of his past make him take off, like Roany’s arrival had so recently done. As it happened, such a time was not too far in the future, but for now they were given the space to just enjoy the evening.

“Jess, Sam Petrie. His spread’s north of here, towards Casper.”

“Fine country – or so someone keeps tellin’ me,” Jess grinned.

“The best!” both men affirmed in chorus.

“If cows are the only thing on y’ mind!” Jess flicked a glance round the bar, taking in at least one pretty girl on the way.

“An’ you hailin’ from Texas?” Sam quipped. “That’s surely big cow country?”

“Yeah. Big cows an’ plenty of ‘em,” Jess affirmed. “More darn’ cows than people, that’s for sure!”

Slim looked at him curiously. He obviously hadn’t asked why Jess had left Texas behind – a man’s business was his own, as Jess had made abundantly clear when Slim tried to cross-examine him about Roany. He did wonder, though, whether being a loner was as much a necessity as a habit. On the other hand, Jess had been pretty specific when he stated he liked to be his own boss. The hawk might alight, but there was no way you could tie it permanently to the perch.

Sam was following Jess’s gaze. “I’d pick a pretty girl over a cow any day!”

“I’ll drink t’ that,” Jess agreed with a wry grin. Sometimes a little camouflage was no bad thing. He poured them all another round. “Mind you, women can make just as much trouble as cows if y’ give ‘em half a chance.”

Jess could see at least one girl heading his way. He downed his whisky and poured another, fortifying himself for some evasive manoeuvres. It proved unnecessary.

Slim was not a big drinker and mindful that they still had to ride a fair distance. “Those cows’ll be making a parcel of work for us in the morning,” he said. “Time to head home, I think.”

He couldn’t force Jess to call it a night, but he also didn’t want to drink Jess’s winnings away either. – _The man was incorrigibly generous, careless even, about money. –_ It did not sit easy with Slim’s own painstaking husbandry of every last cent. He misjudged Jess a little in this for, although the Texan brought drinks for his fellow card players and for all the girls in the house, he also picked up the bottle of whisky.

Putting it in his jacket pocket, he gave Slim a conspiratorial crooked grin and said, “F’ Jonesy. Medicinal purposes only, o’ course!”

“Of course! Come on,” Slim grinned in response and with a word of farewell to Sam, they quit the bar, retrieved their horses who were hitched outside, tightened cinches and mounted up.

Presently, as they rode towards home, they heard the approach of a large number of horses. Slim gestured that they should pull over to the side of the road and, as they halted half in the shadows, a troop of cavalry travelling at a steady disciplined pace drew level with them.

As soon as the officer spotted them – for they were not trying to hide – he gave the order to halt and called out: “How far to Laramie?”

“A couple of miles,” Slim responded at once.

“Thank you. If you’ve a home to get to, make all the speed you can. We’ve been warned of hostiles on the move.”

“Hostiles?” Slim was surprised, for things had been peaceful for a while around Laramie.

“Not close,” the officer assured them. “But we’re spreading the warning, all the same.”

“Thanks!”

The order was given and the troop rode off again. Slim and Jess resumed their way home, but at as swift a pace as the state of the road and the available light would allow, for they were both acutely conscious of Andy and Jonesy alone in the ranch house. Slim particularly was kicking himself for even thinking of leaving them

“Quit expectin’ the worst!” Jess’s growl came out of the darkness reassuringly. “He said not near. You’ll get them to safety if need be. And y’ know darn well y’d never have left them if there was any danger when we rode out, so quit spoilin’ y’r evening by layin’ guilt on y’self.”

“Yeah.” Slim was surprised that someone he’d known for such a short time could read his mind so well, but in truth Jess had easily figured him for a conscientious man who would never fail to take responsibility for those around him, not to mention one who loved his family. Slim himself was less sure of Jess’s reactions. The advent of hostiles did not seem to be perturbing him much, but the sight of the cavalry themselves might be a different matter, Slim realized. It was not so very long ago that Jess had fought and lost to those men in the dark blue of the Union.

If it bothered him, Jess gave no sign. Just stuck to Slim and Alamo like a burr until they were safely back at the blessed tranquillity of the intact ranch house.

It did not remain tranquil for long. They learnt more about the potentially volatile situation with the Pawnees who were on the move when a cavalry patrol stopped by the relay station during their so far fruitless search for the Indians. Then arrival of the very next stage, with a dodgy wheel, a motley assortment of passengers and a dying Indian boy plunged them all into the center of the trouble which had occasioned the deployment of the army troop in the first place. Sure enough, Slim’s immediate concern was to get Andy and Jonesy to the safety of town. He was somewhat surprised to find Jess looking after the wagon with an expression which looked like disappointment on his face.

“What?”

“It’s tough for a boy to be told he’s not a man yet.” - _Sure as hell wasn’t somethin’ I was ever told. More like kicked out to do a man’s job o’ fendin’ for myself, long before I was Andy’s age! –_ But no way was Jess going to share that part of his history with Slim.

Slim frowned. “There are worse things that could happen to him.”

\- _Worse? Yeah. He could get blown t’ bits drummin’ the men into battle. He could see every other member of his family slaughtered an’ know there’s no way he’s gonna stop it. He could end up chained to a wall in a prison. He could find out that friendly strangers have some right unfriendly uses for boys who’re learnin’ to be men. But he’d have chosen a man’s work for himself! –_

There was no time for further discussion. In a crisis, as before, Slim found that Jess was calm, practical and reliable. Both in his quiet, competent attendance to the Pawnee boy and in his genuine respect for Major Prescott and his orders, Jess showed sides of him none of them had seen before – or maybe they had been hidden behind the more obvious aspects of his drifter character. Finding out Jess had ridden dispatch out of Fort Lincoln shook Slim out of his preconceived ideas about Jess’s reactions: it seemed that Jess’s war experience had been far more of a patchwork than his own.

It was natural enough, given this information, for Jess to volunteer to sneak through the Pawnee cordon and find the cavalry. When the Texan was mounted up and ready to ride out, Slim reached out to shake Jess’s hand.

“Jess –“

“Yeah, I know. Take care of myself. Lots of work when I get back!”

“Yeah, that’s the only reason I was worried about you.”

The real words hung unspoken between them. Neither of them knew enough about this fragile new relationship to be able to express aloud how danger threatened it, along with those they both held dear. Besides both of them would have scorned to put their personal feelings first in such a situation.

Jonesy, however, marked with a single gesture how much Jess had become part of the family of the ranch. He simply handed Jess the bottle of ‘medicinal’ whisky which Jess himself had given him.

Then Jess was gone into the dark and hostile night and Slim rose to the necessities of the situation, concentrating all his mind and energies on the dangers facing the little band trapped in his home. It was not until much later, when David Prescott had made his valiant sacrifice and another Chief had fallen, a casualty of the warring needs of two very different cultures, that Slim had time to reflect on what he had learned about his new employee and budding friend. He felt a great deal of pride and admiration for Jess’s skills, which did indeed enable him to evade the Pawnee scouts and track down the military detachment, even if they only arrived in time to escort the demoralized tribe to their reservation.

Slim was also surprised to see real regret in Jess’s face when he heard of Prescott’s death and commented impulsively: “I didn’t think you’d care much about an officer like him?”

“No? Why not?”

“Aside from liking being your own boss?” Slim ribbed him gently, then added seriously: “I thought maybe you mightn’t want much to do with the ones who were in command on the winning side.”

Jess gave him a long, level look, his blue eyes stern and sincere. “It’s the man who counts for me, not the uniform,” he said briefly and turned to unsaddle his hard-working mount. There was no further discussion, at least at that time, but the words were to come back to Slim before very long.

***********

After the savage tension of the raid and its outcome, it was hardly surprising that Slim rode into the yard to find Andy and Jess fooling around and teasing Jonesy. The harassed elder brother, relay station contractor and rancher allowed himself a somewhat indulgent smile. – _Jess was such a kid at times! It was like he’d been short on fun and was bent on catching up. And he never stood on his dignity with Andy either. –_ This last thought provoked a more serious one: _\- It was all right for Jess. He was the hired hand. The responsibility did not rest on his shoulders! –_ And yet Slim knew, in his heart, that the responsibility for Andy and indeed for Jonesy was one which Jess willingly and unstintingly shouldered.

\- _All the same, there was the matter of fence mending to attend to! –_

“Well, mister, I dunno. We got pretty good bunks over at the Sherman place. ‘Course if you really need help ...”

Typical of Jess to be pulling Slim’s leg about the prospect of serious work. Sometimes Slim wondered why he had not gained height, his leg was stretched so ruthlessly so frequently. But also typical of Jess to be alongside him at once, tackling whatever task Slim had gotten lined up with energy, if not – in the case of fencing – with very much enthusiasm. It was hardly surprising, when you thought about it – Slim’s spread was so small compared with what Jess must have been used to in Texas and had much more frequently occurring fences.

“You ever go back to Texas?”

“Once, after the war.” He really didn’t want to think, still less talk, about it. The devastation. The unmarked graves. Even Francie gone, who knew where, with the man she loved. The man he loved no more than dust now, a dark shadow blown upon the relentless wind. “There was nothin’ left there for me.”

“So you went looking for what was gone someplace else, huh?”

“A lotta places.” – _Y’ don’t wanna know about those places, Slim. About shattered trust and bitter betrayal. Nor see int’ the locked place inside ... -_

“I don’t think a man ever finds what he loses. Just something else to take its place.”

“You got the first half right. Time’ll tell about the rest. For me at any rate.” _– It’s gonna be a long, long time before those dark places get wiped out by the light of better times, better friendship - never mind any kind of love ... But sometimes, y’ can’t help needin’ t’ put some balm on the ache! -_

“Yeah. For me it was just nice to stop reaching out.”

“Just needs gettin’ use to. Takes time to drive a stake deep.” _– That’s the fear. Because when y’ pull a stake, y’ too often leave a piece of it deep in the ground it don’t wanna be parted from. -_

“This is good country. Good land. Holds a stake firm once it’s set in.”

_\- Yeah. Maybe. If there’s gonna be time. –_

But time was running out all around them.

When they arrived back to the relay station Slim tried, for some inexplicable reason, to persuade Jess to consider homesteading. _– Well, been there and done that and what the hell’s goin’ on? Hardly got m’feet over the threshold o’ this place! -_ Intent on putting an end to this new idea of Slim’s, Jess joked: “Whoa now. Everything in its time. Let me get used to the bridle before you set the saddle.”

_\- And don’t that just bring back memories y’d be better off forgettin’! -_

Once inside the house, memories hit him again with an almighty shock as he came face to face with Gil Brady. He knew Gil had survived the war and married Francie, but comparing Andy’s safety to the fate of so many boys had brought the dangers they had all faced to the forefront of his mind. Immediately, Jess felt as if they had both just then returned from the war. The marks on Gil’s face and the obvious beating he had been given, not to mention the sympathy Andy and Jonesy were displaying, argued the young man had suffered considerably.

Except that he wasn’t a young man. As soon as he opened his mouth Jess could tell that Gil had not learnt any maturity since he’d last seen him before the war. _– He was a kid then and he ain’t nothin’ but a kid now. An’ Francie was the one who always took care o’ the kids! –_ Something inside Jess braced and nerved itself for the consequences of this observation. Family was family. Gil was Jess’s responsibility, whatever Slim might think.

Slim’s opinion was pretty straightforward. It was “no good reason for deserting’ and “don’t mix in it, Jess!” It was as if he had never shown any care or concern for his own family.

Jess was as horrified as his boss to find out Gil had deserted and totally incredulous when he heard of the reason: “You mean y’ ran away ‘cause you got a tough sergeant?”

\- _If I had a dollar for every beatin’ a sergeant’s ever given me, I’d be whistlin’ all the way t’ the bank! -_

“I happen to be born too far south.”

The claim made Jess bite his lip.

\- _Y’d need t’ have been in chains in one very particular prison camp t’ understand what that really means! -_

Gil was entirely full of excuses. “I was only seventeen years old, you know that, Jess.”

\- _I know. I saw kids younger than you – kids just let loose from their ma’s apron strings – wounded and dyin’ – sufferin’ worse’n you’ll ever know! -_ And over and above his disappointment at his brother-in-law’s totally self-focused attitude, Jess’s heart was sore because it meant Gil had also totally failed to remember which of them was actually the younger.

But it made no difference.

Slim could protest and refuse to help them find the Lolo trail: “Why drag Jess into this? He’s just told you he doesn’t remember the whole trail.” He could remind Jess over and again the kind of life his sister would be condemned to, even if he did manage to get Gil safely to Canada. He could state his unequivocal opinion: “No matter how you weigh it, it still comes out deserter.”

It made no difference.

“I’m still goin’.”

“It’s your choice.”

“Well I guess that cuts it.”

Slim walked out and the door slammed behind him. For once he was the one Jonesy was calling “bull-headed”.

Jess told himself he didn’t care.

“Stakes weren’t driven in too deep anyway.”

***********

_\- They were all gambling for high stakes! –_ Slim knew that when he tried so hard to hold Jess back from the Lolo trail. The dangers were countless and increased many-fold because Jess had never completed it, not to mention that the pair were fleeing from pursuit into the bargain. Slim felt he himself was trying to bargain with fate, for Jonesy’s words echoed and re-echoed in his mind as he bent over the map, in order to pick out the landmarks which would guide him safely: “Y’ may not have any debts and y’ may not have anything else either.”

\- _How was Jess managing? Managing without a map. The map Slim had refused to give him. –_

Slim had realized from the start that Jess could take care of himself. It was evident from the hoof marks which very rarely deviated from the true path of the trail. But he had an encumbrance in tow, as Jonesy had pointed out. That was evident too. There were places where the second horse had struggled, been ridden unwisely over a more difficult patch of ground, had had to back-track round obstacles where the rider should have been watching closely what Jess and Zig were doing.

\- _Or should it be Traveller? –_

Andy’s accusing voice was ricocheting round Slim’s head too. “You let down a friend. That’s worse than stealing a man’s horse and leaving him afoot. A man can always get a new horse, but a good friend’s hard to come by.”

_\- The chance of a good friend he might have just lost. All because the man was so darn’ stubborn about takin’ the side of his family regardless of what they’d done! –_

Slim did not stop at this point to ask himself what he would have done if Andy instead of Gil had stood before him, desperate, hurt, terrified – and guilty. He did not ask himself either what he hoped to achieve in his pursuit. He knew Jonesy and Andy had both struck the mark on his heart. _\- He could not afford to lose this friend! -_

The hoof marks he was following showed he was gaining on the pair ahead. If Jess had been on his own, Slim would never have caught him, but Jess was carrying Gil like a weighty burden, a constant drag on his progress. – _Yeah, well, without Gil there would be no need for any progress! Or the map ... –_ Slim keep determinedly on. He was not going to think about why or what would happen next. He was going to find them!

But their horses found him. There was a rattle of hooves and a flurry of small stones and the two animals emerged from the trees, picking their way eagerly downhill. Zig and the other bay Jonesy had loaned them greeted Alamo with enthusiastic snorting. Slim had no difficulty in catching them.

\- _Why were they running loose_? - He could not believe Jess would be careless in securing the horses at a halt and in any case it was not the time for pitching camp. – _And the horses were still carrying all their equipment_. _Something must have happened._ _A change in the terrain maybe? –_ He could see there was a towering ridge ahead, one which the horses would find very hard to scale, even if their riders dismounted and led them.

While he investigated, he left all three tethered, took his rope and headed up the precipitous side of the mountain.

– _It might have driven the pair to abandon their horses, but surely Jess would have taken essential supplies and gear, even if they had decided to walk? –_

Slim could hear roaring water – a fall, for sure. There was no sense in trying to get round it until he had seen the exact terrain, so he threw his rope and got a hitch which would enable him to climb higher and get a better view. – _How the hell was Jess managing, when his rope was still on Zig’s saddle? –_

A yell of terror split the air.

From the direction of the sound, Slim could see through the trees the glint and flash of a turbulent river, churned up by the waterfall. He slid rapidly down the rope and sprinted towards it.

There were two bodies in the water.

One swimming strongly for the opposite shore.

“Rat!” Slim muttered under his breath.

The other much closer to the waterfall and being pulled down by the force of the water.

Slim’s heart leaped into his mouth at the same time as his hat and boots went flying and he raced towards the water’s edge.

“Jess! I’m coming! Not letting you ...”

The rest was silenced by a mouthful of water as Slim plunged in and plowed powerfully to where the only man who mattered to him looked to be going down for the third time.

Jess was never sure what happened when he fell in or why he was unable to swim. All he knew and remembered was that he was flailing around, barely floating, when strong hands seized his shoulders and a familiar voice in his ear ordered: “Hold still! I’ve got you! Let me do the work!”

Slim managed to get the two of them to the bank without too much difficulty. When he lifted Jess in his arms and hauled him to safety, he was surprised at how heavy the Texan was. He might look lean, but every inch of that wiry body was nothing but muscle and weighed accordingly. They made it a few feet up the bank before Jess collapsed, face down, coughing.

It was so reminiscent of the way Jess had manhandled Slim when he was hit by the fallen tree that it almost seemed like deja vu. But Jess had been in much more imminent danger of drowning. And now he was soaked to the skin again. Slim hastily averted his gaze. He was vividly recalling how Jess had helped him recover. The hot, hard body pressed against his under the shrouding blanket. The sense of security. Of warmth. Of reliability. He was not sure if he even dared begin to show Jess the same care.

Tentatively, Slim leaned towards Jess and gently laid a hand on his hip.

Jess rolled over immediately, evidently less stunned than Slim had been. Slim’s hand slipped from the hip, brushing across the abdomen. He could feel the heat of Jess’s skin even through the coarse material of his shirt.

\- _Dear God! He had nearly ... ! -_ For he had felt the faint quiver of Jess’s taut stomach muscles as they contracted even tighter to leave a hollow dip below the buckle of his belt. Slim’s hand jerked away, as he hastily leaned back from the sprawling man, who nonetheless ended up almost in his arms.

Jess lay still, panting and looking up at him. He muttered: “Never thought ... need help ... how t’ swim.”

“How’d you like your first lesson?” Slim asked, simply assuming that the man he had rescued was unable to swim.

“Fine.” _– You’ll never know how fine! – “_ Just never figured you’d be here to give it to me.” – _Give me all the lessons y’ wanna. But I ain’t always gonna be a good, well-behaved pupil! -_

Breath still laboring from the efforts they had both made, they grinned at each other, the conflict between them momentarily forgotten. Jess simply wished their breath was heaving for another reason: the unlikelihood of this did not make the prospect less pleasurable, even in his half-drowned state.

“I’m full of surprises. Like I’ve got three horses waiting back up the trail.”

_\- Horses? Oh yeah. We lost the horses. Wonder if Gil’s drowned. Or did he just leave me to? –_

Jess was finding it hard to concentrate. And it was no good putting it down to his fall and the amount of water he’d swallowed. There they both were, soaked to the skin again ...

“Let’s go.” Slim was already scrambling to his feet and extending a helpful hand, although his eyes were picking out their back trail. “Let’s find those horses.”

When they’d retrieved Gil from his abortive attempt to swim across the river and their mounts from where Slim had left them tethered, they changed into dry clothes before pursuing their way onward. Not long after, they made camp for the night. The atmosphere was, to say the least, uneasy.

Gil was sullen. Slim was struggling with a mixture of irritation, antipathy and a healthy dose of worry about Jess’s intentions, not to mention confusion about his own physical reactions. Jess was keeping a tight rein on his feelings and the conflict between his old and new loyalties. He was touched that Slim had ridden after them with the clear intention of helping them achieve something he disapproved of so strongly – he was simply not sure how to express this.

It was not until they were settling the horses for the night that he ventured: “Slim, I haven’t said anything, but you know me and Gil are obliged for you showin’ us the way.”

“I didn’t do it for him.” Slim’s back was turned but it radiated all too obviously his unbending belief in the rule of law.

\- _That sure is true enough! –_ There was no way he was going to change Slim’s mind, but Jess’s propensity for caring for those who didn’t deserve it was undiminished. He saw Gil’s incompetence and fear simply as manifestations of his immaturity, since the years of the war and whatever he had done after didn’t seem to have given him many survival skills. The fact that Jess had been through far worse experiences himself did not color his sense of duty and responsibility towards his brother-in-law.

“It’s different for you and me, we’ve bin around, we can handle a Sergeant Jordan, but Gil –“

“I know, he’s just a kid who never grew up.” Slim turned to face Jess. “Jess, you ever thought what the army would do to you if they found you were helping a deserter?”

“He’s my kin. I didn’t bother to think. He’s not yours.”

“No, he’s not.” The struggle between principle and liking was once again lighting the rancher’s eyes.

Slim turned his back abruptly once more. There did not seem to be a great deal of sense in pursuing the subject any further. He found himself increasingly frustrated as the evening wore on, to the extent that he moved away from the campfire to give himself a shave; the activity at least stopped him grinding his teeth at the ease with which Jess accepted Gil’s obviously specious account of his marriage. The only saving grace was that any kids would have Jess as an uncle. - _But this begged the question of whether Jess’s enthusiasm for such a potential role would one day outweigh his loyalty to the Sherman Ranch and Relay Station. Not to mention to Andy. And Jonesy ... and Slim himself. –_ He narrowly avoided cutting his own throat as he almost shook his head in despair at Jess’s stubborn persistence in accepting a man Slim could see right through without binoculars – and one under a military charge and a deserter to boot.

Turning in for the night, Slim tried his darnedest to turn himself to sleep too. In vain. His body might be still, but his mind was not. Now all was quiet, Jess’s words went round and round Slim’s head: “He’s my kin. I didn’t think” _._ Not because he didn’t know the price for aiding a deserter, but because he chose to set aside his own personal danger, just as he had done with Roany Bishop and, before that, when he had risked running the Indian lines and on the very first day as he fought Bud Carlin alongside Slim.

More words came into Slim’s mind: _-_ “It’s the man who counts for me.” – _Not the uniform. Not the occupation. Not the choices and actions of the past. Only what made up the man. -_ And this pitiful excuse for a man counted as kin. With total stubbornness, Jess would adhere to and support of those to whom he had pledged his kinship or his friendship. He was defending and looking after Gil simply because he was married to Jess’s sister, in just the same way he had defended and looked after Andy when Roany posed such a threat to him. And Andy had far less of a claim than Jess’s blood kin.

This brought Slim’s thoughts to an abrupt halt.

\- _Jess’d protect Andy, no matter what the circumstance or the cost. Now he was trying to protect his sister and her future. And this girl, Francie, could not have been so much older than Andy when Jess last saw her. -_

Slim’s mind stopped raging against the act of desertion and the man who was getting away with it. Instead he saw suddenly the opposite of desertion. He saw with utter clarity that Jess would never leave you or let you down. Not once he had taken you into his life.

_\- The question was, could Jess care the same way about Slim and put trust in him, when their views were so completely opposite? Would Slim ever be the man who counted for Jess? –_

With these questions in his mind and a fervent but confused prayer in his heart, Slim finally fell asleep.

***********

A horse neighed. Slim’s troubled sleep was broken almost instantly and he sat up abruptly, peering into the darkness to see what might have disturbed the animal.

Jess was already on his feet with his gun in his hand.

They both kept quite still, listening, probing the darkness with all their senses. Nothing moved. The horses seemed to have settled again. The woods were quiet. The only sound was the faintest rustle of the logs falling to ash on the fire.

“You sleep pretty light,” Slim observed. It was certainly a contrast to the Jess he was used to on any given morning in the ranch house.

“Comes from havin’ nothing on my mind.” The statement was brusque and accompanied by a glance in the direction of the somnolent mound of blanket which was Gil. It wasn’t completely true, either, because Jess had been turning over in his mind the amazing fact that Slim had ridden after them – not for Gil, but for Jess’s sake. Taking a huge risk, both in terms of the dangerous terrain, even with a map, and the likelihood of being accused with Jess of aiding a deserter. Jess knew how strong Slim’s sense of justice was. He was trying to fathom what had make the rancher take this course, especially as it involved leaving Andy alone with Jonesy at the relay station. - _It couldn’t only be friendship, could it? Surely such action argued a much deeper feeling?_ – And since deeper was more than he dared hope, he had spent a good part of the night struggling with his confusion.

Now he focused on the fire, which was still glowing strongly. Jess had never been very happy about that fire. It gave away their position far too easily in the night and even worse, it made them clear targets against the light for anyone coming at them in the darkness of the woods. Still, to keep the peace, he had followed Slim’s orders and made sure it didn’t go out. At least it had one good purpose.

“Coffee?”

“Yeah.” Slim sounded a lot more relaxed than he had. This was partly because he was thinking with a mental grin: - _Typical Jess! -_

Soon they were both leaning back against same log and in both their minds was their first meeting, when Jess had been reclining against a similar fallen tree by the lake. Then It was just a resting place on his journey. Now Canada was close. Jess never in his life felt less like crossing a border, but it might be that he would have to stay there, even if it was only more of the Big Open. He could not bring himself to be the cause of Slim breaking his principles, any more than he himself could be less than 100% supportive of those bound to him in any way, those to whom he gave his loyalty or his love.

“It ain’t good when a friendship makes a man go against himself.” The thought somehow made it from his brain and past his lips before he had a chance to think it through.

“Sometimes a friendship or a man needs a test.” 

Slim was looking intently at him, as though he meant Jess to measure himself against the statement.

Jess’s heart sank. – _It don’t sound like he thinks y’ passed his test. But I guess that’s what y’ get when y’ try runnin’ a buggy with a stagecoach!_ – Yet he had to try to get their minds to meet, even if this was to be the parting of the ways. Whatever happened as a result of this venture, he wanted Slim somehow to understand.

“D’you understand why I did it? It’s on account of Francie.”

“That’s the way I had it figured.”

Jess stared at Slim in surprise. He certainly hadn’t figured any such perception on Slim’s part. Why should someone with his background understand about leaving a sister behind and the terrible amputation of the only support Jess had ever had in his life? Slim grew up in a household almost entirely composed of men. How could he understand what such a thing meant for women, particularly women in a rough, unruly extended family like the Harpers?

“A man’s free to strike out on his own if what he’s leavin’ doesn’t suit him. That’s what I did, ‘cause a boy sure can think and act like he’s a man. Francie was the only one I minded leavin’. She was the only one of the whole tribe of Harpers who was worth anything.” Jess gave a bitter laugh. “Likely the only one who’d even notice I’d gone, seein’ as how she was the one who played the mother to me all those years. I was just a kid when I left, went on the drift, left her behind, without a word. But I guess I thought, ‘cause she was older ‘n the rest of us, she’d get away by marryin’, like she did. She found someone who cares about her, someone ready to take care of her – an’ it’s about time someone did. I’m gonna do my best to make sure she don’t lose what she deserves. I turned my back on her once. I’m making up for it now. I gotta ‘cause there ain’t no Harpers no more barring the two of us - only ghosts.”

It was difficult to judge how Slim took this speech, or if he realized how much of himself Jess was revealing. Slim’s response was entirely characteristic of him: “I guess it’s just a case of a man doing what he thinks is right.”

And entirely true of Jess to reply: “There comes a time when a man’s got to think with more than his head.”

“I only wish Brady was worth it.”

The sentence hung between them like fire in the air. They were never going to see through the same knothole, as Jonesy could have told them for sure. Slim holding fast to his belief that Gil Brady was no good. Jess unwilling to see past the fact that this was his sister’s husband.

The husband who all too soon was pointing a rifle at him and shouting, “Jess, I don’t want to, but so help me, I’ll kill you where you stand.”

The same man who killed an unarmed and disabled Indian, with the words: “You move, you’ll get the same.”

The Indian’s attack and the fight and the subsequent revelations about the true nature of Gil’s desertion only served to drive Slim and Jess further into their respective positions. It did not help that they were left afoot with a dead body they had not killed and a frightened and trigger-happy criminal on the loose somewhere nearby. They could only hope Gil would head straight for the border and not linger to dispose of them because they were dangerous witnesses.

Slim summed it all up succinctly.

“Well of all the stupid things!” He fumbled with the bandanna he had pulled out of his pocket.

“Maybe it’s for the best.” Jess grabbed the improvised bandage from his boss’s shaking fingers and proceeded to tie up the knife wound he had sustained.

“Tell that to the dead Indian.”

The blow struck home. Jess had worked with Indian scouts, had lived a while with a couple of Indian communities, had only recently seen, though not for the first time, the result of white folks interference in the fate of tribes like the Pawnee. It was hard now to defend Gil, especially with Slim emphasizing what the Indian had revealed and why he chose GiI as his target. So he kept his mind on the bandaging.

“I heard, but I ain’t so ready to believe.”

“If it makes you feel better!”

– _It sure don’t! -_ Jess tied off the bandage hard, feeling as mad at Slim as he had at any of his elders when they tried to tell him what to do or what to think. The next minute neither of them was arguing or telling the other anything, for they were forced to surrender to the infamous Sergeant Jordan and listen to his account of Gil’s recent activities. It was interrupted, appropriately enough, by Gil fulfilling their fears, shooting from the cover of the dark forest and wounding Jordan.

Now, with only Jess left able-bodied, it seemed to Slim that Gil would get away, for Jess surely was not minded to stop him. He thought wrong.

Sergeant Jordan intended no such thing. He played his trump card with the news he brought about Francie.

“She’s dead!”

“Y’ lyin’!”

Deadly silence. Only the hiss of the wind and the soft falling of the ashes.

“How?”

“She couldn’t stand his cowardice. His causing other men’s deaths. His lying about it. They quarreled. Brady beat her and left her to die.”

***********

\- _She’s dead. Francie, who was so strong for every one of us young uns. Who did a woman’s work when she was only a kid herself. Who stood between you and the blows and the rages and the ... Francie who held her head high, even when someone was beating her. She did not deserve to die this way! She died because y’ left her. Left her no choice but to pick a bad man to get her clear of a bad family. She died because y’ cared for her – but not enough t’ save her_! _Now there’s truly nothin’, only ghosts._ -

***********

Sergeant Jordan had achieved his objective in Gil Brady’s death, through his ruthlessness in shocking Jess into being the one who had to take the deserter down. On the long journey back, Jess rode behind the other two, silent and expressionless. Finally they came to the relay station and to the warmth and comfort of the house and Jonesy’s cooking.

Andy took one look at Jess and flung his arms round him in silent sympathy. The boy had no idea what had happened, but he knew it was bad. Jonesy took one look at Jess and handed him a cup of strong black coffee.

All three of the travelers were exhausted and it was not until the following day the whole tale was unfolded to the shocked pair who had so willingly helped Brady in his need. There was a tacit understanding that, with Brady dead, Jordan would no longer invoke the law on helping deserters. It was obvious that all four of them had done so in their different ways, but the pursuit of a sentence would not achieve anything further, since the man who had influenced them could no longer benefit from such support.

Besides it appeared Jordan had something of a conscience about the ruthless way he had used the tragic news of Jess’s sister to goad him into action. He apologized again as he boarded the stagecoach.

Jess was noncommittal and almost expressionless. “You did what you had to do. So did I.”

As the coach rolled away, he appeared to shrug the whole affair off, and turned to Slim, a little tentatively: “You reckon this country’ll take them stakes again?”

“It never let go of the other ones,” Slim assured him.

Much later, when the day’s chores were completed and they had eaten supper, quiet fell over the place. Andy was already in bed. Jonesy was preparing the kitchen for the next day’s breakfast. Slim and Jess were out on the porch, enjoying the tranquil evening.

Jess stood leaning against the porch rail, his eyes on the road which came up from the south, the road he had followed to reach Laramie. He was quite still.

Presently Slim rose from the rocking chair he’d been occupying and put a hand gently on Jess’s shoulder, his arm almost around the younger man’s back. He said softly, “I’m turning in.”

Jess turned his head and looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. Go ahead. I ain’t gonna make any noise when I come in.”

“Ok.” Slim went quietly into the house. He figured Jess probably needed some time alone to work through the loss of his sister and, even if he had accepted the way he had found out, to get over the shock.

Jess turned back to his view of the road.

After a while he moved slowly, almost painfully, and sat in Slim’s chair. The faintest smell of leather and sweat and shaving soap lingered about it. The cushions were still warm and dented by the imprint of Slim’s body.

Jess could no longer bear it.

With a stifled groan, he half-fell, half-crawled until he was sitting with his back against the house wall, his knees drawn up, his dark head bowed over them. It was a stance in which he had spent many nights, though the days had too often forced him into other positions. And like all those nights, he was neither sleeping nor weeping.

He was still there at dawn.

Jonesy found him.

Hearing the creak of the door, Jess lifted his head, then rose to his feet as fluidly as if he had not been crouched in the same position for hours. He walked slowly back to the rail. He gazed out again at the road which ended in the south and at the first glimpse of light behind the eastern ridge.

The old man stood in the doorway, looking at the young man.

He came to a decision.

He moved stiffly to stand beside Jess and put his hand on his shoulder, much as Slim had done.

For a long time, they said nothing.

Then the silence was broken, hoarsely: “I’m afraid, Jonesy!”

Jonesy nodded. “Yeah. That figures.”

“It keeps happenin’. Like I’m cursed or something!” He turned haunted eyes to the man beside him.

Jonesy’s gnarled fingers tightened in just the same way as he’d given Jess a good poke in the ribs. “You’re a good man, Jess – never doubt it. Y’ain’t perfect but y’ll do because y’ heart is right. Hold on to that.”

“I’m afraid,” Jess repeated. He dragged his eyes away from the road and looked over his shoulder as he had the night before. Looked at the empty rocking chair. “What if –“

“And hold on to this!” Jonesy interrupted fiercely. “Slim’s a good man too. I’ve known him since he was born and he ain’t ever acted any ways other than honest and true.”

He paused and waited until Jess turned his head and their eyes met.

“Y’ can trust Slim, Jess. You can!”

* * *

This story follows the episodes _Glory Road, Circle of Fire_ and _Fugitive Road_ and it is acknowledged that details of dialogue and action are drawn from them. However you will have noticed some changes, particularly because the Jess of ‘Partners’ has a different life-path, family and chronology to the somewhat confused and later contradicted information given in the latter episode.

Where do we go from here? Not to a swimming lesson, as that has already been done on Fanfiction – check it out to fill a gap. Anyway, slowly moving away from episode-based stories as we go on.

Jess’s version: _One Wide River to Cross. Copyright, 1877, by G H. Moulton & Co._


End file.
